


That Kind of Man

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hawkeye - Freeform, Intimacy, Mockingbird - Freeform, divorced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobbi accidentally wakes Clint up when she's having trouble sleeping.  </p><p>(Reference to Bobbi being in the past is in regard to a storyline in West Coast Avengers from the mid 80’s.  Great Hawkeye/Mockingbird stuff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Kind of Man

Bobbi was standing by the window in one of Clint’s shirts.  He couldn’t stop looking at her, at the way the moonlight in the window blocked her body out against the thin cotton.  He laid in bed just watching her for a long time.  Bobbi was stunning, long legs and blond hair were kind of Clint’s thing, not to mention the fact that she as a total badass.  Plus, she was a good person deep down.  Sometimes it was very, very deep down, but he couldn’t fault her.  Things had been rough for both of them in their lives.  Maybe that was why they were drawn to each other.  Hell, they divorced five years ago and were still sleeping together on a semi-regular basis.  Like tonight, she’d come over after a rough day and they’d had a pretty normal night.  They’d had dinner he cooked, watched a hockey game while they screwed around on the couch, then went to bed together.  It was moments like this that made it hard for him to remember why it was they’d gotten divorced in the first place.  

She was clearly struggling with something, but she wouldn’t talk to him about whatever was eating her.  Bobbi was like that, though.  She’d go on high for ages until she finally popped and had a complete meltdown.  Clint could scent that meltdown on the breeze.  Things were never the same once Bobbi came back from the past.  The torment she’d faced was incredible, but she was Bobbi and she’d come through.  She wasn’t the same, but she was still kicking and Clint was proud of her for that.  The light shifted because she was turning and Clint didn’t even bother to pretend like he wasn’t looking at her.  “Hey,” her voice dripped with exhaustion.  

“Coming back to bed?”  Clint hadn’t even glanced at the clock to see what time it was.  It was sometime in the late evening, the darkest part of the night so the moon could really light her up beautifully.  Or maybe that was just Bobbi. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.”  Bobbi slipped across the room, those long legs covering the distance quickly.  She slid into bed, one leg curling up under her as she settled in.  “Go back to sleep.”  Her fingers stroked through his hair, her nails scraping slightly against his scalp.  Clint turned his face into her palm, kissing the calloused skin along the side of her pinkie.  Bobbi’s hand cradled his head and Clint moved in closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.  That was all the invitation she needed.  Clint sat and Bobbi came in curling herself around Clint.  She sort of half laid against him and half over him, her head resting on his shoulder.  Bobbi folded in on him, long limbs embracing every bit of him.  Bobbi hugged like an octopus, but a very soft, good smelling octopus.  

He let her have quiet for a few minutes, just stroking his fingers through her hair.  It was thick, but really soft.  Clint didn’t know how girls did that.  His fingers settled in low on her neck, running his strong thumb up and down the column of her spine up to the base of her skull.  “Want to tell me?”  Bobbi shook her head and Clint kissed the crown of her head.  “Want hot chocolate?”  Bobbi nodded and Clint gave her a squeeze.  “Just give me two minutes more here, ok?”  Clint held onto Bobbi tight, waiting until he felt her muscles give a little before he let her go.  “Come on.”  Bobbi slid out of bed and Clint got a glimpse of her ass.  God it was a thing of beauty.  He kept the thought to himself, though.  Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist as he leaned over to grab his boxers.  It was only then that he realized that she was wearing the t-shirt he’d been wearing today.  

She slid past him when they got to the kitchen, moving to sit on the counter.  Bobbi was not allowed to touch the stove because Bobbi had almost set their house on fire four times when the two of them were married.  The fifth time, Clint made the rule that Bobbi only got to watch from the counter when the stove went on.  She tuned in the classic rock station on Clint’s radio while he pulled out the milk and dark chocolate powder she liked.  Bobbi’s heels gently tapped on the cabinet beneath her as Clint warmed the milk.  He stirred and she started to hum.  Something very few people knew about Bobbi was that she had an amazing voice.  After humming came singing softly under her breath and Clint kept his back to her so she could feel unobserved.  

He measured out the powder in lazy scoops, tossing it into mugs.  “Reach into the cabinet above your head.”  Bobbi produced the bag of mini marshmallows and broke out into a smile.  Clint hated marshmallows.  He thought they were slimy and really disgusting once you started chewing.  Bobbi, on the other hand, loved marshmallows, even Peeps.  Maybe especially Peeps.  She’d keep them open on the counter so they’d get a little stale before she ate them and she’d chew them with her mouth open to show Clint how _delicious_ they were. 

“You’re keeping marshmallows here for me?”  

Clint nodded.  “You like them.”  

“You’re not required to do things like this for me anymore.”  Bobbi looked a little off, like she was nervous but happy for the gesture.  

“I was never required to do anything.  I wanted to.  Now open those disgusting things and grab a spoon.”  She wound one leg around his, locking in at his knee.  It wasn’t really sexual, more possessive, maybe even more like she needed an anchor.  Clint was cool with being Bobbi’s anchor.  Hell, didn’t they all need that sometimes?  “Ready?”  Bobbi held up her spoon and between them they worked on making the perfect, frothy hot chocolate.  Bobbi was good and had actually succeeded in making sure there wasn’t one grain of powder.  “Disgusting snow boogers?”  Bobbi tossed some marshmallows into her cup and jokingly dangled one over Clint’s.  “You’re so mean.”  

They drank standing there together, Bobbi’s leg moving up around his hip.  Clint stood close and they took their first sips together.  “Good?”  

“So good,” Bobbi agreed.  They stayed there for a little while, Clint’s free hand lazily stroking over Bobbi’s knee.  The simple ritual of sipping hot chocolate while listening to music in a dark kitchen seemed to help Bobbi relax.  He felt her fingers start to stroke his back just under his shoulder blade. “You’re all knotted up,” she dug her fingertips in, making Clint draw a breath in quick through his teeth. 

“Don’t worry about that right now.” He nodded to her chipped powder blue mug. It was another concession he made to her, keeping that ugly ass mug around. “Drink your hot chocolate.” She squeezed him with her thighs, feet hanging over his ass as she crossed her ankles behind him. “Octopus.” Bobbi smiled. It was something she didn’t do a lot since she’d come back. Whatever Lincoln Slade did to her, whatever hell he inflicted, she’d never told Clint anything other than it was bad. Clint’s mind was filled with hellish scenario after hellish scenario, but no matter how often he led her down the path to tell him, she never told him anything more. 

“Want to watch Project Runway with me?” Clint sighed and set down his hot chocolate and ducked out from her grasp. “Come on, I know you have a crush on the redhead. Oh, speaking of redheads….” Clint pulled back, shaking off her allusion to Natasha. Natasha could be a sore spot. Hell, anyone Clint had ever loved was a sore spot. “And there’s the Clint I know and love.” 

“Because you’re so open and transparent,” he pointed out as he flopped down on the sofa and grabbed the controller. “But you are right, the redhead on this show is hot.” Clint turned on the TV and let Bobbi decide if she was going to come sit with him or not. Eventually she came over and slipped in under his arm. Hours later Clint woke up alone with the DVR paused to a shot of the redhead’s cleavage. It had a post-it over the best part so Clint peeled himself off the couch to go read it. 

_On mission for the next three weeks. See you in Berlin on the 28th._ It was sealed with one of Bobbi’s little dirty drawings in a heart. Clint sighed and plucked it off the TV. Why were women so infuriating? Why were they so damn hard to understand? Clint added the post-it to a drawer chock full of them, all with a different dirty drawing from his … what was she anyway? Clint flipped through a couple of the post-its and sighed before shutting the drawer and going to start a pot of coffee. Only Bobbi had left him with cold, wet grounds and nothing fresh. Even Clint didn’t fall to see the parallel. But Clint was Clint, so he threw another pot of water in to run over the grounds. Eventually it would be just brown water, but for right now he might get a drinkable cup. He was trying to keep a positive outlook, but like this relationship with Bobbi, the coffee was weak and bitter. He still drank it because Clint Barton was that kind of man.


End file.
